In Memoriam
by Oldwickedsongs
Summary: On the eve of the Clone Wars, Obi Wan Kenobi and his apprentice are sent to win the loyalty of a powerful empire. However, in the struggle for the system, Obi Wan must fight against what he cherishes most: the memory of Qui Gon Jinn. RR
1. Ante Bellum

Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, 

That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear. 

And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream." 

-Midsummer's Night Dream 

** In Memoriam ** ** By: Lady Erised**

_"Our lives are shaped _

_as much by those who leave us _

_as they are by those who stay. _

_Loss is our legacy.. _

_Memory is our guide..." _

- Hope Edelman 

**Prologue: Ante Bellum**

Count Dooku lifted his eyes as the woman entered the room. Her face was downcast, with her hands brushing her forehead as if she was physically easing a headache. He lowered his cup, warily and watched her carefully; searching for any sign of weakness. She lingered by the couch, placing one hand over the fabric and leaning on it for strength.

The years had made a pretty girl into a beautiful woman. Her hair fell into a brown curtain over her shoulders, shielding her docile face from Dooku's view but he didn't need to look upon her face to know it. It was seared into his memory as his prize. Her eyes that held so much of her father's spirit were the same color as his- a mixture of jade and blue, resting against bronze colored skin, accented by a straight nose and thin lips. The face, that demanded nobility and respect kept it with quiet strength.

Strength that had once belonged to the Jedi, but now claimed by Dooku. The woman's body and mannerism still held the semblance of her training. A toned, muscular frame was barely hidden under her robes. Dooku turned his attention to the hand that was gripping the sofa, studying the fingers and the small, pale scars that dotted them. It wasn't right, he thought idly, that one so young and beautiful should have dedicated her life to the Jedi Order. Not when she was more useful to his purposes.

"You had another nightmare." It was not a question. Just a statement made in the quietest and deadliest of voice and the woman's inattention made her jump. Dooku stifled a smile, but was nonetheless pleased with this reaction. It was a subtle reminder of his control over her. He placed the cup down and rose from the table, advancing to her.

This caused those eyes to finally focused on him and even though her face held so sign of anxiety, the grip on the couch tightened. Her other hand fell from her brow to her stomach, as if she was protecting some weakness. She swallowed and stammered out a reply. "It's nothing. Something I ate last night must have not agreed with me, Count…I'm sorry."

"Hush, daughter." He cooed, feigning the sound of tenderness and love. He traced her arm, and smirked as she shied away from him. His very touch seemed to send terror through her body. "Just tell me, was it the same dream?"

_And to think her father was one of the greatest Jedi…look at how pathetic she is now… _

She was looking away from him now, head lowered and eyes staring obediently at the ground. Her lower lip was tucked in as she bit on it, no doubt to lend her some resolve where she felt none. Dooku had to laugh this time, but still his hands traced down her torso, under her breasts and down to were her ribs met her abdomen. There they rested on the object that had troubled Dooku since first he discovered it. It was a crescent-shaped scar as if she had been burned.

Or run through with a lightsaber and somehow survived.

And it was because of this mysterious scar, that Dooku knew, somewhere in the core of his being, that this creature before him would be dangerous to him and his Master. So, he took her, and molded her into an image he could use. He made the wealth of pain and doubt inside of her tools for his use. He taught her to speak in words he had chosen, to react to things how he would wish.

And now, he would use her to destroy the very thing that had made her his own.

"Dooku, you know I won't deny you anything…but are you sure about this?" She was asking. "The Republic is dying. We should be helping it…not destroying…"

"The Republic is the reason you are an orphan, child." He countered. "Or have you forgotten your father's death so quickly?"

"Of course not!" She said, allowing her voice to rise with her passion. She stepped away from him and strolled to the window. "But he was Jedi, as we were once. He died for that, didn't he?" She bowed her head. "After all this time, all that has passed…isn't time to let go of all the hate? Can't we go back to…"

"To what, daughter?" Dooku said. He had been prepared for this conversation for sometime and now took on the voice of a wounded man, knowing that reckless compassion she inherited from her father would react. "To forget that my student was murdered? Forget the fact that he died for a corrupt government over some trivial trade dispute!"

She turned and was watching him, her face even more like her father's now that it was torn with compassion and her own pain.

"You don't care. That's your problem." Dooku said, carefully choosing his words. He returned to the table to retrieve his lightsaber and the one she used. His eyes dimmed with sorrow as he studied the old, familiar handle and spoke again, after a long, uneasy silence. "You don't care about all that was given up for you, about what your father gave up for you. All you care about is yourself. It makes no difference how we have all suffered too long…how so many more will suffer because of your…" He glanced at her, still holding the saber close to his body. "…apathy. Everything we did for you…it doesn't mean anything." He sighed tiredly. "May I should just leave…" 

The girl's countenance fell as she listened. Quickly, nervously, she crossed to him, wrapping her arms around Dooku, desperate to prove him wrong. "Don't say such things to me, please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off as ungrateful…I care about everything you've done for me, and I'll make you proud. Please say you won't leave me." 

"Will you do what I ask then?" 

"I will." She nodded, "I promise I'll obey from now on. Like my father did." 

"Hopefully, not just like him." 

She smiled at him softly, teasing the waters to see if she had injured the relationship she held most dear. 

Dooku smiled at her, patting her arm. "Go, finish packing." He told her. "Your transport will be arriving shortly to take you to Galatia." 

"Thank you…" She turned to leave. 

"Thank you what?" 

"Thank you, father." She whispered after a beat before going to the room to ready herself. 

Dooku sighed as he watched her retreating image. For years now, she had been by his side preaching the Separatist gospel and doing whatever he asked of her, but now he was concerned. She was returning to the home of her family, and the Republic would fight for such a powerful system. The High Council would send Jedi to counteract her work. Dooku knew she felt the pain of forsaking her heritage and worried that, surrounded by so many reminders of her past and what she had left behind, she would be swayed against him. 

But that would be impossible, he assured himself again. He had made her believed that everything they did was for her father's memory and if there was anything she cherished in life, it was her father. That would be her undoing once Dooku no longer had need of her, but for now… 

For now, it was life.


	2. Adeste Fideles

Author's Note: This is a slightly unedited version, expect a better version later- please enjoy and remember, love your fanfic writer and review!

_"Sometimes people leave you_

_Halfway through the Wood. _

_Do not let it grieve you, _

_For no one leaves for good..." _

-Steven Sondheim, "Into the Woods"

**Chapter One: Adeste Fideles**

Obi Wan Kenobi folded his arms and jerked the curtain of light brown hair from his face and was tempted for a moment to don the tied-back look his Master had been known for. He smiled gingerly, like he always did when thinking of Qui Gon Jinn. Nine years had done nothing to dull the memory or lessen the love Obi Wan felt for him, if anything it had strengthened his resolve to emulate his late Master. Although, by no means as stately or commanding as Qui Gon had been, he carried himself with the same off-hand aloofness and chose his words carefully, even prudently but always adding just the driest hint of wit. Obi Wan still secretly relished when older Jedi Masters and Knights compared the two. He liked the reminders; they made him feel a little more secure whenever he heard it. But unlike his master, Obi Wan was keenly aware of the rules and protocols that governed him and the land. Which is why he, unlike Qui Gon, could understand fully the ramifications of the time.

The Separatist Movement, under the command of the charismatic and powerful Count Dooku, was spreading live a cancer through the Republic. Dooku used his reputation as a Jedi to be promoted as a man of peace throughout the galaxy and once he had an audience with the system's head- he would convince them to join him. The words that he spoke were easily but powerful. He spoke of disease and corruption. He spoke of a government that was ruled by greed and personal intent. The Republic, Dooku said, was no longer a democracy that could stand in the daylight and proclaim it's good intentions. The Senate had become a place for taxmen and thieves, a den of double-dealers and profiteers. Honor and loyalty were traded in dark corners, with justice and mercy forsaken like some unsuccessful venture. What was worth, he said, was the shaming of the Jedi. He said that they had become selective in what they saw as truth, and that they refused to see problems until the losses were laid before them on a funeral pyre.

Yes, Obi Wan had remembered hearing _that _speech and feeling a stab of indignation and betrayal. He knew whose pyre Dooku was referring too and had tried to understand the sorrow that must have followed the Master but it didn't dismiss the pain over the allusion.

And with each new report the Jedi Council was receiving about Dooku and his Separatists rumors had begun to whisper war. By definition, this was foolishness. Dooku was once a Jedi and therefore a pacifist, but there will still voices among the Senate that claimed behind his posing and kind words- a tyrant and a warmonger lurked.

But try as he might, Obi Wan could not ally the image of tyrant and Dooku. True, he had never met the Jedi Master but this man had trained Qui Gon- a Jedi renowned for his empathy for the living Force. How one could one have merged with the other made no sense to Obi Wan. Not to mention, he had to trust Dooku was gentle and trustworthy.

After all, when he had left the Order those years ago Dooku had taken one of Obi Wan's most prized possessions with him.

"Master, how can you just sit there content!"

The youthful voice broke through Obi Wan's musings like a whip, causing him to turn. Beside him, Anakin Skywalker sat fidgeting with his seat as if trapped in a small cage. Obi Wan allowed the corners of his mouth to perk up as he watched. Anakin was no longer the unsure boy he had taken as a Padawan, but still that childish naïveté that Qui Gon had been attached too still glowed as bright as a sun within him. Age and trials had made the skin harder around Ani's eyes, freezing them into the sad look of a Jedi but never destroying those large, wondering eyes that could view the universe a hundred times over and still be amazed.

Eyes that were right now tired and frustrated because of long missions, little rest- and now little information. Obi Wan felt for his Padawan. They had barely completed they're mission in the Outer Rim before the Jedi Council had contacted them- in mid-flight back home- that they were to land on Bandomeer where they would be picked up by a Senator's personal craft where they would be taken to their next mission. No other details were given. The Senator's ship had been simple and their only interaction had been with a small human child whose face was covered by a veil. It was almost like they were being purposely kept in the dark.

"Would you prefer I paced to and fro like a caged animal, my young apprentice?" Kenobi asked idly. He was troubled by the lack of information, but had thus far sensed no immediate danger. That's one of the last lessons he had been taught, to be mindful of future but live in the moment.

"No, Master but I would know where we were going."

"What do you feel?"

"Anger, confusion."

"I didn't ask what you were feeling…" Came the soft chide. "Close your eyes, Anakin. Breathe and release your own emotions. Now, stretch out with your senses and feel what surrounds you."

Anakin obeyed. He shut his eyes tight and took several long breaths to sooth his troubled mind. As he always did, he focused on the beating of his own heart, listening to the rhythm of muscle that had always reminded him of an engine's hum. As he felt the Force surge around him then ebb to a comfortable wave, he allowed his senses to reach out, searching for the other beings on the ship. The servant boy was in a study, with the Senator.

The Senator was a strong presence. He was duty-bound by words like honor and love but seemed burdened by fear and torn loyalties. Even as Anakin felt this Senator's nobility, he could also feel the basic human- yes, this Senator was human- anguish but he could not pinpoint the reason. His thoughts were directed to the boy, Anakin sensed and it was with a surge of pure love and humbleness- something that this Senator wasn't accustomed too.

"The boy, the servant…" Anakin began, as if he began to study the boy. "It's the Senator's son!"

"Very good, my Padawan." Obi Wan said, "Now, come with me."

Anakin fell into step behind Obi Wan and walked towards the study. He could still feel the family and wondered why the deception. Why would the Senator use his own boy to wait on Jedi. A nervous thought crept into Anakin's mind and took root. What if this boy was a spy and the Senator was treacherous. He glanced at his Master, curious to see if Obi Wan shared this theory but as always, his Master's face was a mask of coolness and serenity.

How he hated that sometimes.

Obi Wan seemed to sense something and smirked at Anakin before pressing the button. The door to the study opened and Obi Wan stepped in first- causing the boy to jump from his seat.

"I'm sorry, sirs!" The boy announced, bowing his head to stare at the floor. Here he was without his shroud and clearly was fearful of being so exposed. "I didn't here the chime. Will you need anything?"

"Only a word with your father, Amri." Obi Wan said, politely. "Thank you."

Anakin snapped his attention from the boy to Obi Wan. "You knew, Master?"

But his master merely motioned to him, offhandedly. He was instead staring intently at the back of the Senator, who had yet to turn around and face his guests. A smile was quickly overcoming Obi Wan's face. "Well, come on then and turn around, Gai Vinn. I know it's you. I can smell the prissiness."

In his years at Obi Wan's side, Anakin was quite sure he had never heard his Master address anyone in such a manner. He stared at the man, waiting for a reaction. Now, in the same room with the man- Anakin could see why this man would exude strength even through the Force. He watched as the man slowly turned and faced the twin Jedi.

Even if he hadn't bore the title of Senator, Anakin would have been in awe of Gai Vinn. Even as the Force told Anakin that he was human, there was something intensely unreal and alien about him. Slender and handsome, he was taller then them both with short white-blond hair cropped around a narrow face, pale thin lips, a small nose and eyes that cut through Anakin's very strength. Unprepared for those eyes, Anakin realize that it was those orbs staring out at him from that human face that made Gai Vinn look alien. Opaque whiteness with only whispers of the palest blue seemed to differentiate the pupil from the rest of the eye, and those eyes, which seemed sightless in one moment, seemed to see more then just images with the next.

Gai Vinn must have sensed his awe. "Now you see why my son donned the shroud." He said in a pleasant voice that was devoid of any sign of malice or haughtiness. "Outlanders are rarely accustomed to seeing Parcaen eyes."

Anakin took a step back as Gai Vinn strolled towards them. "You're Parcaen?"

"Yes," He confirmed, with a hint of amusement. He turned to Obi Wan. "Doesn't miss a beat, your Padawan."  
"He learned from the best."

"Who in turned learned from the greatest." Gai Vinn said, respectfully. "Come, embrace me, brother. It has been too long since I held my kinsmen in my arms."

Obi Wan chuckled and hugged the Senator, relishing the touch from his old friend as much as Gai Vinn was. For a moment, he lingered in the arms as countless happy memories entangled with Gai Vinn's spirit passed in his mind. Obi Wan pulled away finally and laughed again. "Too long indeed."

Gai Vinn reached over and brushed tears from the Jedi Knight's eyes before turning to Anakin. "I can only imagine what you must be thinking."

"I'm wondering how you can treat us so rudely as to not give us any information and then greet my Master as a brother." Anakin said. "Are all Parcaens this…hospital?"

"Padawan, your manners. We are Isidor's guests…"

The Senator was unruffled and waved at Obi Wan. "No, it's quite alright. I can see why my father noticed him. Such fire, a true kinsman of the Jinn."

Anakin's feeling of helplessness and ignorance was growing and with it was his frustration. He glanced at his Master for support and saw only the playful mirth Gai Vinn invoked. Pushing down a stab of jealousy, Anakin turned on the white-eyed Senator and demanded. "Why do you keep referring to family? Who are you?"

"I apologize. I should have explained everything before." He said, with a light bow. "I am Senator Gai Vinn Isidor, of the Parcae Kingdom. As you will find when we land, Parcaen culture is based on our caste system and kinship ties. I call your Master my brother because his Master was my Godfather. It's how we identify with each other. On Parcae, you will be viewed as Obi Wan's son, rather then student."

"Wonderful." Anakin remarked dryly. "But that doesn't explain why we're here, or the lack of information."

"As I said earlier, the lack of information was to ensure your safety. If anyone knew I was brining more Jedi to Isia, an attempt might be made on your lives."

"More Jedi?" Obi Wan took over, "Why is there already a Jedi presence there, and why are we being brought?"

Gai Vinn sat down across from them and motioned for them to do the same. "This is a delicate time for the Parcaen Kingdom, Obi Wan. The Mal-Batz grows stronger with each passing month, and with it the Separatist movement." 

"I don't understand." Obi Wan replied, as a slight disbelieving frown began to claim his features. "Parcaens have always been strong supporters of the Republic and the Jedi. How could Sovern Ramir turn away?"

"Our King is dead and our Prince is weak. He does not have the support that Ramir had. The people are beginning to listen to Zane Tashari."

"Who is Zane?" Anakin asked.

Obi Wan shook his head grimly, as if attempting to drive away memories. "Tashari is the leader of the Mal-Batz, a political group that seeks to end the Sovern's reign and the caste system from where the King claims to receive his right to rule."

"They are nothing more then terrorist who would throw away millennia of tradition!"

"…as you can tell, the ruling caste is unwilling to negotiate with them. This had lead to about twenty years of strife among the Kingdom."

"Strife that until recently has been able to be controlled by our own means. However, Zane has been hinting at a shift in power. He's a fierce Separatist as well, and is riding on the new pro-Separatist movement that has taken hold in Isia. He claims that before Elias is crowned King, the Mal-Batz will bring about a toppling of the monarchy and make way for elections…and an eventual departure from the Republic. You know the risks we face if Parcae is compromised."

"What could bring about such a shift in power? Do you know what these claims are founded in, Gai Vinn?"

"No, only that they exist." Gai Vinn exhaled, softly. "Which is why I come to you during this desperate time. The Jedi already on Isia are there to ensure the safety of our Prince and to make sure the coronation goes through without a hitch. I am asking you to get to the bottom of these rumors…see if Zane's claims are true. We cannot afford civil war."

"We'll do what we can, Senator. I doubt Zane has been able to garner enough support off world that would allow him any sort of coup. But, we will investigate nonetheless."

"Thank you, brother."

Anakin felt the Force stir within him, warning him. Silently, so not to disturb Obi Wan who had since entered into a conversation with Gai Vinn about various names he didn't recognize, Anakin reached out with his feelings to probe. His unusually high connection to the Unifying Force gave him insight into things Obi Wan could never glimpse, Anakin thought, and now it was giving warnings. He sensed Obi Wan's heart was glad to be returning to this galaxy, and he felt a bond that indeed mirrored brotherhood between Gai Vinn and Obi Wan. Anakin realized that his Master was far too attached to this system to be able to perform this mission successfully. He would have to be on his best guard if he hoped for victory. Outside the ship, the swirling green and blue globe of Parcae's capital planet Isia, grew larger as they descended. On the planet he could sense a low throb of anxiety thinly veiled by a desire for normalcy.

And then, he sensed it. It passed so quickly into Anakin's mind that in the moments that followed, he wondered if he had imagined it.

He had sensed Qui Gon Jinn's presence below on the surface, waiting for them.

It had been a whisper more so then anything else, a passing memory that Anakin could have sworn was real. He glanced to his Master to see if Obi Wan had sensed it. But Obi Wan gave no sign of acknowledgement. He decided that it had been real, and stretched out again to search for this memory. He found a sensation only, an opaque glimpse of this faded memory, steady and fixed like a star waiting for him to discover it. He could have sworn he felt mocked by this mark.

Come for me, it whispered, I am waiting.


	3. Flamma fumo est proxima

**Chapter Two: Flamma fumo est proxima**

            Obi Wan pulled down his hood so he could feel the familiar warmth of Parcae's white sun on his face. There was a beautiful storm raging in his mind, a chaotic jumble of thoughts and sensations, stirring with reminiscence and emotion. Each section of the port, and the promise of the city beyond filled him with countless happy memories of this planet.  He had been here many times before, as a Padawan under Qui Gon, and had loved it each time. Even now, his eyes began to sting as bittersweet memories came to the forefront of his mind- as each sight, and smell, and sound connected to a remembered one that had been long, long forgotten. He could feel the stone of the ancient city underneath him, could feel the pride of a people, and in his chest, his heart swelled with emotion for them all. 

            These people had given him his Master and for that, he loved them. He loved their simple nobility, their innocence and beauty. Qui Gon, he reasoned, had been a prefect son of Parcae and thereby, everything that had been good and whole in him belonged also to the people. And he would die to protect that. 

As he walked, he felt the Force swell around him, welcoming him to a city at peace. Behind him he was only faintly aware of Anakin, Amri and Gai Vinn. He frowned as he felt Anakin's contempt for Gai Vinn and wondered how anyone could feel so in such a paradise. He turned towards a fruit vendor, preparing to ask in his own broken knowledge of the native language for one of his favorite sweets.

And in the next sensation, he became acutely aware of the rough cobblestone road next to his cheek and the pressure of a lighter person on top of him whose laughter rang out like wind chimes, both lovely and whimsical. 

"Obi Wan, you should be ashamed of yourself or were you so entranced by the beautiful women all around you that you could not sense danger when we approach so easily? What would Master Qui Gon think? I knew I should have become his Padawan instead…you didn't deserve him."

"And he didn't deserve the headaches that you would have given, Briand."

"So, you do remember me!" Laughed Briand as she rose and offered her hand to Obi Wan. 

"How could I forget you, scars don't fade." He joked, taking her hand and looking into the Jedi's playful blue eyes. Without looking at Anakin, he said, "Anakin Skywalker, meet Briand Creed." 

"A pleasure," Briand said, her hands now working on returning her short blond hair to its place. Obi Wan had to smile. Everything about Briand had always given him joy and her presence here only added to his serenity. Although the same age, she had matured more gracefully then he, and it seemed that the decade that had parted them had only served to make her more beautiful. Her short gold hair was pulled into a tail, but bangs hung over her crisp blue eyes. Her arms were slender but strong, with long fingers that wove quickly over her hair and then fell to her side, with her left resting on the hilt of her lightsaber. Instead of the usual tan and brown robes of a Jedi, she wore fine simmersilk robes of rose and bright red, the color of the Imperial family, complete with the crest of the King over her chest. Obi Wan's eyes ran over her body, and then- upon feeling a pang of embarrassment and guilt- he brought them quickly back to her round face and that small knowing smile that always scared him as a child. 

"Yeah," She said, shyly. "I missed you too, Obi Wan." She turned. "Padawan, go to the Sovern and tell him the convoy has arrived without incident."

"Yes, Master." The boy said, meeting Obi Wan's eyes for a split second then running away to fulfill his task.

"Amri, you're welcome to go with him, if you like."  Gai Vinn said kindly, walking closer to Obi Wan and Briand. 

The Padawan had paused, and lingered, clearly pleased with the idea of company. There was a kinship between the boys that Obi Wan could feel in the Force. He was impressed by the Padawan's connection to the Living Force, but couldn't shake an unease that was growing in the pit of his stomach. In the moment Obi Wan had caught of the boy, he had seen clouded eyes that gleamed from a strong, noble face, and a curtain of dark brown hair. His body, appearing painfully thin, looked like he could not hold his in a battle- causing Obi Wan to worry even more about him.

This child was barely a child, how could he be a Jedi?

"I sense your anxiety, Obi Wan." Briand's voice broke his musing, and brought his attention back to the moment. "But believe me, it is unfounded."

"He's a frail boy." Anakin interjected, knowing the questions Obi Wan was too polite to ask. "We're only concerned with his safety, and yours for that matter."

"Qui Gon is an able fighter…"

Obi Wan frowned. "His name is Qui Gon?"

"Qui Gon Manasseh." Briand nodded. "Did you not see your Master's spirit in his grandson's eyes?"

"He's Adame's son?" Obi Wan asked, with emotions that betrayed him.

Behind him, Anakin noticed the influx of emotion and flinched from it. Briand met Anakin's eyes knowingly for a brief second before returning her full attention to the questions that Obi Wan was rapidly firing at her. 

"Have seen her? Is she alive? The boy…who is the father?"

Gai Vinn leaned over and touched Anakin's arm when he saw that the Padawan meant to interrupt and ask about this. The Senator leaned over and whispered into his ear. "In a place where emotion reigns, my young friend, it is best to remain quiet and learn what you can."

"Who is Adame?"

"Listen, and you will find out all that you need to know…for now." The Senator said, quietly and motioned again to the two Jedi Knights. 

Briand had her arm on Obi Wan's; as if touching him would give him some peace the name had taken. Her eyes were warm, and worried and the way she continued to stroke his arm with almost loving affection told Anakin that the person who meant a great deal to Obi Wan.

Adame was also someone who had affected his master negatively. 

"The boy was born at Megiddo over a decade ago, and when he was tested he was returned to the Jedi Temple on Golian. We only know his mother, she would not reveal the father."

"Does she know he is being trained?"

"I don't know." 

"Does the boy know who his mother and grandfather are?"

"He knows he is a son of Parcae, and the Crowned Prince has ask that we allow him to take his rightful place among the Elite at the Coronation. Until that, however, the Jedi have chosen to keep his legacy a secret."

There was long pause as Anakin sensed Obi Wan struggle to contain a storm of feelings that he dared not show on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw Briand reach over and grasp Obi Wan's hand. Between them, he could sense love, trust, but in Obi Wan, there was now pain and confusion and one feeling that overwhelmed even Anakin's senses- love, betrayed. 

"Why don't you explain the situation to me?" Anakin said suddenly, and felt Obi Wan's relief that he was no longer the center of Briand's attention. "What exactly is our mission?"

"Our duty is to protect Prince Elias until his coronation." Briand said, carefully. Gai Vinn took over, giving Briand a sharp glare. "And to ensure that Elias will support the Republic in the upcoming Loyalist-Separatist struggle."

"There's no indication that there will be a struggle." Briand said, in a voice that clearly told Anakin and Obi Wan that Gai Vinn and her had had this argument many times before. 

"But there is no guarantee against it." Gai Vinn said smartly. 

Before them, the royal palace of Aziton gleamed with stately beauty and prestige. White stone, with red banners that swayed majestic in the breeze crowned the vast, looming gardens. Unlike the palace of Theed, which Anakin had a habit of comparing everything too, Aziton an age to it. A nobility that came from it's withering architecture and intricate masonry and cravings. The spires that recalled the Jedi's own temple reached towards the white sun and clear blue sky creating a specter of heavenly peace. The feel of surrealism increased when the Jedi entered this great palace. The polished marble floors did not echo eerily like most dead places but instead rang against the halls and sang to the hearts of the servants and diplomats that crossed them as they passed. Upon seeing their Jedi robes and Isidor, the people would smile at them sincerely and bow in honor. 

And then again, like Anakin had sensed on the ship was the presence. That passing whisper of a forgotten memory but now this specter was cold, calculating and menacing. Unlike the ship's vision, now the ghost was malevolent and cocky. That soft teasing nature that had infuriated him was beckoning him closer now, and in response, Anakin hurried his step. He could sense the ghost in the room beyond and he would not lose again. He would not be taunted by a ghost; he would destroy it first. 

"Anakin, that's the Throne Room…" He ignored Obi Wan's plea, followed by Gai Vinn's strained voice. "You can't go in there until summoned!"

Bursting past the doors, he felt the surprise of the Prince, his guardian and attendants. He felt the guardians move into position around the Prince, and heard, rather then saw the attendant rise and demand the meaning of his interruption. No, instead Anakin's eyes were owned by the ghost made flesh. 

It was a woman who sitting on the steps under the throne. She was a beautiful woman, with strong features that were poised in study of him. Gray hazy eyes ran over his body, before resting on his like if he were some exotic toy she could play with until he no longer amused her. The cockiness and arrogance that surrounded her like a cloak, was alien when attempted to be allied with the face that demanded nobility and respect kept it with quiet strength. 

She rose to her full height, walking pass the boy Prince who was still hidden from view by his company of aides and guards. The black of her uniform was set violently against the teal cape that whipped around her like a serpent. She rose gloved hands, and smiled a tight, knowing smile.

"Aha, young Skywalker, honor and welcome. It has been many years since last I saw you and indeed you are no longer the boy my father saved. By all means, enter and bow before the new King of Parcae." She lifted her head and looked up, and with that action the smile grew. "This is indeed a happy reunion! Obi Wan, my father's pride and Briand Creed…welcome, come in! Gai Vinn, you should come into. What we are discussing involves you too…"

"And what are you discussing?" Gai Vinn asked, quietly. After years of surprises and shocks in the Senate the appearance of a woman who had not been seen in a decade affected him less. 

"Why, the succession of the Parcaen Kingdom from the Galactic Republic, of course. I came with a mission from my Master to talk of a possible departure and am pleased to announce that upon his coronation, a new day will be dawning for Parcae." She smiled, brightly. "Isn't that grand?"

The color from Obi Wan's face had returned and now, even though each word seemed to bring great pain he spoke. "Anakin, this is Adame Jinn, Qui Gon's daughter. You've met before if you'll remember…"


	4. Corruptio optimi pessima

**Chapter Three: "Corruptio optimi pessima"**

"Does pacing around give you any comfort?"

Anakin stopped mid-stride and turned to stare at the other Padawan, now having the chance and opportunity to study the boy who had taken the name of his savior. Qui Gon Manasseh was perched on a windowsill, seemingly content to stare out into Galatia as if watching the city pass him by would give him some enlightenment. For a boy, Qui Gon was small and for a Jedi, he was downright feeble. Slender and pale, he had countless tresses of brown hair falling down over his narrow shoulders and revealing sharp nose and deep cloudy eyes that seemed to revealed a wise spirit. He had Qui Gon's quiet look of profound wisdom and steadiness and despite the decade that had passed, Anakin shifted uncomfortably in this boy's presence as if he were the old venerable Master and Anakin were the uncertain boy again.

Anakin shifted his weight and suppressed a frown. "Yes, it does. I prefer action to all this waiting and silence." He glanced at the Throne Room he had been expelled from. "What are they doing in there?"

"I would assume they're trying to piece together what has happened in the ten years they've been apart." Qui Gon looked down and studied his hands. "And deciding the next course of action."

Anakin folded his arms, "You're nervous about this mission."

"Not nervous, Master Anakin, just uncertain. My Master has never excluded me from meetings before. I feel like I have failed in her some way."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I know she views this mission as different, and what she wants of me on this mission. And I know I will fail her." Qui Gon turned, and met Anakin's eyes uncertainly. Anakin was struck at how scared the boy seemed. "I am Parcaen, named after a great hero here. Creed wants me to connect with this system, but I cannot. I feel it would go against everything I was trained a Jedi should be."

"And what should a Jedi be, Qui Gon?" Anakin felt odd using that name after so many years, and addressing someone so young in the process. He also could have sworn he saw the Padawan flinch at the sound of the name as well. Inwardly, Anakin winced. He wasn't good with other Jedi, especially the younger ones who had never been outside of the Temple alone. He stretched and motioned for Qui Gon to follow him. "Come on, what do I call you anyway?"

Qui Gon blinked nervously and slid from his perch. He was dwarfed by Anakin and had to almost run to keep in stride with Anakin. "Manasseh's fine."

"Good, Manasseh it is then. I'm Anakin." He breathed a sigh of relief that he would no longer have to refer to this boy as his first Master. "Now, what should Jedi be?"

"Impartial. Briand is asking me to become attached to this system, to these people and my past. I cannot do that."

"Why not? Are you not capable of love?"

"It's not that, Master Anakin."

"I'm not a Master, Manasseh. Just call me Anakin."

"Yes Master, it's just that Jedi aren't suppose to become attached. That's what she's asking of me."

Anakin inhaled for a moment, "What is our goal as Jedi?"

"To bring peace and order to the galaxy."

"Would you die for that cause?"

"If needed."

"Why?"

"Because I believe in it."

"In other words, you trust it."

"Yes."

"And you're very loyal to that cause."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"That's love." He said. "That's all love is, trust and attachment. Creed is just asking you to do your duty. These people are going to need you to give your whole self to them- to their safety. That requires a certain amount of trust that will always lead to love. You cannot fight for something you do not love. We don't work that way."

Qui Gon turned and looked at him. "How can you be so certain?"

"Because I have faith. But that's another thing altogether. Come on. I'll tell you about that on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"To meet the people you're suppose to protect." Anakin said simply. "Your people."

Crowned Prince Elias was a handsome young man with dark brown hair and purple and indigo eyes. A long, built body that was barely hidden under his silk robes made him everything the people looked for in a leader. In lieu of a crown, the emblem of his rite of succession was the gold braided coil around his neck. An early terrorist attack on him during childhood had left him mute but not dumb. He knew how to play people. He had learned people often underestimated him because he could not speak- and those who didn't feared him as if silence made him deadly.

But right now, he was confused out of his mind. His eyes were small and focused on the Jedi before glancing curiously at his Senator.

Gai Vinn had the same terrorized look that the servants had. There's something distinctly disturbing about three upset Jedi. "I have no clue, my Prince but perhaps we should…duck?"

Elias shook his head and looked at his servants. The telepath that was used as his voice rose to his feet to speak. Anteros was use to this silencing the room, but apparently the Jedi would have no disturbances at this reunion.

"You backstabbing coward! You viper!" Briand's face was turning the color of her crimson robes. She had Adame backing slowly against the wall while Obi Wan was staring blankly between the two females. He suddenly looked very young, and very frightened as if he was accustomed to battles between the two and knew from painful memories there was nothing he could do to stop it. "You desert demon! You betrayed us all! You don't deserve to be named Jinn! You're acting like some kind of politician, no offense Gai Vinn. What on earth are you thinking serving the Separatists?"

"Briand," Adame soothed, smiling behind the curtain of brown hair like if she knew some joke that Briand didn't. "I'm not betraying my name or myself by working for the Separatist. I'm after the same goal you are as a Jedi. I want peace."

"Dooku's after war, we all know that!"

"He said there would be people who thought as you did. The Count is visionary and visions, especially to those who have not yet understood the truth, can be a very scary thing. I don't blame you, Andy." Adame reached over to touch her arm.

Briand flinched away, and spoke in a soft whisper. "Don't you dare call me Andy. You lost that right when you left us."

Now, Adame looked unnerved. "That was a long time ago. Things were difficult for me."

"Yeah, losing your father…"

"I'd prefer not to remember that now, Creed."

"Maybe you need to!" Briand shouted. "Something needs to snap you out of this."

"I don't know why you think something's wrong with me. I am still the same person I was those years ago- just wiser, like you must be."

"No, you're not! The Adame I knew would never hide behind words and deal in the shadows."

"Because I came before you and talked to my King, you say I'm being deceitful? I'm working for the benefit of my people. As a Parcaen, and an Elite that is what's expected!"

"What about being a Jedi!"

"I'm not a Jedi, Briand."

"But you should be." Now it was Obi Wan who spoke and although it was barely a whisper everyone, even deaf Elias turned to his direction. Obi Wan was staring at his hands that were barely appearing under the huge brown cuffs. His voice was low, measured and filled with something that could be described as pain but seemed to reveal only thought. "Of all us, you should be. I sense the heartache within you even behind your polished words, Adame, and I am left to wonder what could cause such pain."

"You're mistaken, Ben. There is no pain in my heart about losing the Jedi. I am proud of what I've become."

"Perhaps, but still I sense that there is some…other motive now for your actions."

"Such as?" Adame whispered, warily. Beside her, Briand smiled smugly as she felt Adame call upon the Force to gather some idea of Obi Wan's intentions. Using her own skills, Briand reached out and blocked Adame's attempts. She smirked when she saw Adame grunt angrily and glare at her.

If Obi Wan had sensed the struggle, he ignored it and turned to Prince Elias and Gai Vinn. "You have called me Qui Gon's son, my Prince, now I beg of you to hear my voice out as you would have his and weight it as you would his daughter's. Adame is a proud Parcaen, like Qui Gon was, but his death those years ago has marred her- against the Jedi and the Republic, like it did for me or would have to any child of such a man. I ask you to consider that perhaps her lost has made her bitter, and bias against the Republic. This I ask, as you have heard from Qui Gon's daughter hear from me, his son, and then make your choice to remain with the Republic or succeed."

Adame stepped forward. "My Lord, I have the Kingdom's safety at heart!"

Gai Vinn smiled and rose like he had been handed the Chancellorship on a platter. He popped his knuckles haughtily and walked towards Elias, bowing with a deep flourish that years of ass kissing that had perfected and fine-tuned. "If my esteemed sister Jinn has nothing but the Kingdom's intentions at heart, then she should welcome the chance to prove herself." He turned and smiled at Adame. "My Lady's days away from her home must be hard and trying- like it is on me, or even Obi Wan's. These are trying times for our people, perhaps we should allow both her and the Jedi to see firsthand how troubling and then, advise you, my Prince."

"There is no need for counsel," Adame hissed. "Unless of course, Prince Elias is won over by flowery words and the magic shows of the Jedi."

Briand made a movement towards Adame again, Obi Wan barely had time to grab her arm and keep her at bay. He gave Briand a gentle look, and patted her hand before sliding an arm around her waist to keep her close. "Prince, all I have to show you is what Qui Gon taught me."

This time Adame flinched as if she had been struck. Her hand fell around her waist, cradling it and staring down at her boots as if for guidance.

And it took everything in Obi Wan not to comfort her.

Elias inhaled thoughtfully and turned to Gai Vinn silently judging his Senator, before turning back and searching each one of the Jedi's eyes in turn. He nodded to himself as he reached his decision and then turned to walk away.

Anteros nodded at him before turning towards the Jedi. "My Prince has decided that is a deep matter, one that cannot fixed even by the Jedi in one day. There is much pain here and that first that must be remedied. To that end, my Prince has asked the Jedi to remain and celebrate our most sacred of holidays with us. It will be Mari Nula soon, our celebration of the New Year and a time for better understandings of where we were and where we are going. He will make his decision and announce it at the end of celebrations. That is all, so has Elias spoken."

"You got all that from a glance, eh?" Briand snorted as she folded her arms over his chest. She glared at Adame before turning to Gai Vinn. "I don't suppose I could bum a room off of you, eh?"

"Sure, you're welcome to my home." Gai Vinn said, softly.

"No," Anteros said. "They will stay at Megiddo." He raised a hand as Adame began to speak. He looked at her sternly. "The Prince wishes it."

Adame nodded after a long pause to control her face. Obi Wan sensed an anger in her that he had felt once before, in the Sith that killed Adame's father. He closed his eyes as he attempted to reach through the Force to her, to calm her.

"Don't." Adame said sharply. She was looking at him coldly. "I am not one for your parlor tricks and opiates."

Briand looked up. "No, you like to hide."

"You know the way to Megiddo, I trust." Adame said as she walked out. "I have to contact my employer in inform him of his new event."


	5. Jacta Alea Est

**Author's Note: For Josie. I hope to update other stories sooner. Read and enjoy!**

**  
Chapter Four: Jacta Alea Est**

As the capital city, of a powerful Empire, Galatia had the appearance of being pieced together throughout the Kingdom's long, hectic history. The oldest part of the city was deep in the center where the government and major businesses settled and the architecture was mainly remains from the Occupation and resembled what one would find on Alderaan. They jutted up from around the King's palace, making the heart of the city appear to be necropolis.

The buildings were tall and gray, mostly made of stonework with statues depicting mythological or historical figures from Alderaan's culture. A thin slow moving river cut through the city, forming a barrier between old Galatia and the new, more ethnic part of the city was the historical district, where gray work began to meld into the organic look Parcaens favored: short buildings made with white or brown stone with wide, open windows and flowing open-air gardens to allow warm breezes to cool the house.

New Galatia appeared to have built to specifically around the river because most of the major roads led to the banks. About two meters wide, with a steady current, the River of Light got its name from the riverbed where small black stones, dulled green by the water's tint, somehow seemed to gather to them every available ray of light- artificial and natural- and shine it back, making the water glisten like fine gold and, for Qui Gon Manasseh, turning his normal reflection into some surreal vision and caused him to duck away from the water.

He tried to avoid Anakin's gaze even though he felt on the back of his neck and continued down the stone path back towards the festivities.

The carnival had begun shortly after Anakin and him and began their walk from the palace. Although he claimed to have followed the Force, Qui Gon suspected Anakin had followed his nose towards this part of the city, where loud music and bright lights broke the warm night's serenity like an explosion. Thick, heavy percussions pounded in Qui Gon's ears, joined by sharp trumpets, low flutes and occasionally the strong voice of a woman singing in the native language Qui Gon barely remembered.

Anakin was eating something he had gotten somewhere that made Qui Gon sneeze just smelling it. Anakin seemed greatly amused by Qui Gon's discomfort and as if to show his delight, Anakin readjusted the small concoction (which appeared to be spicy chopped meat wrapped in a thin slice of bread) in his hand and took another bite. Thin trails of blood ooze from the creation's other end, over Anakin's hand and the Padawan laughed before licking it off.

Qui Gon was certain he was going to be sick.

"Oh come on, Manasseh!" Anakin admonished, wiping the rest of the residue off his hands by rubbing it on his robe. "We're observing local customs!"

"You said we were going to meet the people I'm suppose to protect out here." He countered, and then jumping away as the Force warned him of an approaching couple that steered to close to where he was standing.

"We are meeting them, Manny." Anakin returned, smiling. He leaned over near his ear and whispered. "You just need to learn how to look."  
Skywalker tugged on his Padawan braid playfully before darting ahead of Qui Gon and disappearing into the crowd, clearly taunting Qui Gon to give chase.

But Qui Gon didn't want to play. He wanted desperately to pull his hood up, bow his head and return the quietness of the palace. Here, Qui Gon could not concentrate on focusing and immersing himself in the Force. There were too many distractions keeping him from achieving serenity. He felt his senses fraying by the odd assortments of faintly familiar sights, sounds and smells and longed for his Master.

He had never been anywhere this crowded and unruly without Briand. Had she been by here side instead of Anakin, Qui Gon knew the comfort he sought would have already been obtained. Briand Creed was herself a chaotic storm of emotion and action, but somewhere in that storm, Qui Gon could always find strength. Reaching out now, Qui Gon strained to sense his Master's presence, eager t o feel something of the affection he depended on.

Briand was upset, and hurt. The situation within the Throne Room had not gone well, and Briand felt threatened and uncertain of the new events. Qui Gon frowned as he reached deeper, feeling his Master tense at his prodding but allowing them. Briand was wary of the woman she had encountered in the Throne Room, the liaison Adame Jinn.

_No..._

Qui Gon stopped and shuttered. The name tasted wrong on his lips as if this was not the title _he_ was supposed to be using. He thought back to the palace and the time before Obi Wan (again, his mind revolted at the sound) and his Padawan had arrived. He had sensed the woman Adame but had dismissed her, even though Adame had taken great strain to shield her presence from Briand but not Qui Gon. He hadn't thought this was odd: he had not yet known her intentions and the darkness that shrouded her presence had been dismissed as bitterness from a hard life. Qui Gon had assumed that the woman had merely nominal Jedi abilities and used to them to best maintain her privacy. Again, not a big deal: most people who could hid from the Jedi- due to the stigma Jedi had of being conjurers and mind-readers.

But there was something more.

There was something about this woman that stayed with Qui Gon long after he had left her presence. It was something deep and ever-flowing that connected her and him; both to each other and to the city and system around them. He felt suddenly like he was a part of the River of Life, and that he, and the rest of the Jedi were being pushed by the current to some end they could not see. He did not feel secure in this analogy as he would have if the Force would have guided them but rather Qui Gon felt overwhelmed.

It was not the Force that guided his actions here, that much he knew. There was something or someone else, which pushed and pulled every one around like pieces of a game. He could only trust that the Force was with him and the others, and that whatever end would come to them would find the Jedi prepared.

But there was little he could do now to help in the preparation. In fact, all Qui Gon could do short of abandoning Anakin and trying to make his way through Galatia unattended and alone was to give chase.

Sighing, Qui Gon tucked his braid behind his ear and followed Anakin.

Adame Jinn jerked the hair from her face as she walked Galatia's streets away from the Mari Nula celebrations and the palace. She walked till the large roads narrowed and darkened, and the buildings where neither welcoming nor hearty. She tugged on the corner of her cape, bringing over her frame in an attempt to make her feel protected but not from any outside foe. Nothing as pitiful as an attacker could hurt her like the scene in the Throne Room could. Desperate to quell the anger growing in her chest, she strained to focus on the sound of her boots clicking against the stone roads. She knew it was would be pointless to turn to the Force for comfort.

The Force had long since abandoned her.

And despite herself, Adame shut her eyes against the tears that came unbidden anyways. In her heart she felt the total despair that only Count Dooku could chase away. Inwardly, she cursed herself for her cowardice but she couldn't help it. It was like Dooku had said; she was marred now, imperfect and unable to become Jedi. The Jedi and the Force would no longer aid her as they had done for her a child.

But how she longed for that comfort again. She longed for the security and the rightness that came with each facet of the Jedi life. She missed the Temple on Coruscant that had been her home, and her Master. She missed the various faces of friends and the small every day nuances of her life. She felt her heart twist in her chest as she thought of her father and wrapping one arm over her stomach she thought of her wound.

Her father's last gift.

Thinking back, she could still recall the exact moment of his (and in so many ways) her death. She had two sets of memories from that time: one her own, and the other, given to her by the Force for some cruel reason she couldn't understand.

She felt the roughness of the carpet under her fingertips as she kneeled in the center of Mace Windu's quarters and tried not to be afraid. Adame was a favorite of the Jedi Master's, and the Padawan Learner of Mace's old apprentice, an Umbaran named Zel Bastet. This allowed Windu and Adame the opportunity to train together many times, especially in combat. But this meeting had not for training purposes, only for meditation.

Adame was kneeling; legs tucked under her body, hair down over her shoulders, heavy outer rob discarded somewhere nearby and lightsaber resting docile in her lap. It was the prefect stance of complete surrender and trust. Adame let her hands hang by her side, brushing the carpet and tried to sooth her troubled mind by focusing only on the Master's deep voice.

"There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death. There is only the Force."

Even as Mace spoke the words, Adame felt a stab of guilt. There was emotion in her, deep powerful emotion that she wanted desperately to deny. She was a fiery person; a passionate one and Adame had always felt secretly alienated because of this. Whereas her father viewed his passion as an asset, Adame viewed hers as a handicap. One she struggled with all her life. And now, one that was compromising her mission. Another wave of guilt came over her as she remembered her reason for being there.

Her Master had sent her home. Bastet had sent Adame back to the Coruscant Temple because of the Padawan's inability to concentrate on the mission at hand. Adame had been troubled, and preoccupied with some oppressing force that neither Master nor student could fully understand. Adame felt humiliated and angered by this. How could she ever hope to become Jedi if she could not master herself?

Her father had told her many times that once she stopped fighting it, the Force would find a way to use her passion but Adame could not bring herself to agree with that. Instead, she wanted to be like Mace or Zel, whose emotions were kept firmly under control and whom the Council never viewed as mavericks.

Her father...

Adame felt the surge around her suddenly, at the invocation of her father's presence. She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye even though they were closed and despite herself, Adame turned her head to view it.

It was the flash of red, followed by a snap as some machine powered down. Her mind told her it was an energy wall snapping shut, as the Force told her to move now if she wanted to catch him in time.

Adame became aware of her muscles moving but she was not moving. She felt as if she were in some dream-state, wavering in and out of consciousness. In one realm, she was still sitting in Mace's parlor, hearing the Jedi Master recite the Jedi Code. But just as real was the sensation of movement, action...

Fighting.

Yes, she thought, that word tasted right and the idea gave credence and understanding to the sensations. She could hear the crackling of lightsabers as they clashed against each other, could smell the ozone in the air, and feel in her hands the warm saber hilt, gripped firmly in her hands. She was holding so tight that her knuckles ached and the hilt was slippery from her sweat.

And yet, Adame was also aware of her saber's weight in her lap, and could still feel the roughness of the fabric underneath her fingers. She could hear Mace's warm voice wash over her, and feel the nearness of his presence. But she also knew the Jedi Master had stopped pacing and now stood behind her, watching her intently. He too seemed to feel the heaviness of the Force in the room, and the dreamscape as it merged in and around Adame's body.

The fighting had stopped and now, again, Adame was on her knees: legs tucked under her body, saber resting in her lap, and breathing desperately trying to be stilled. She thoughts traveled briefly to her Padawan: to Obi Wan who stood trapped a few screens behind her. The boy was nervous, anxious to return to his Master's side; eager to join in the fight against this enemy...this Dark Lord...

Adame felt her mind recoil but could not pull away from the vision. Even as she felt these sensations, thought these thoughts and attempted to quell them: she knew they were not hers. Her body was not aching from age and weariness. She tried to flex her fingers and even though she knew her arms were at her side; her fingers traced the grooves of her father's lightsaber.

Her father. Now it made sense.

She felt him understand this too, and her body relaxed at the same time his did. Somehow Adame's control returned to her and she inhaled deeply, pushing away all her guilt and troubles to find peace. From his place, Qui Gon Jinn also found serenity and smiled a quiet, private smile not meant for anyone but his daughter. Adame became aware of his thoughts in that moment, of the truth of the situation. She felt Naboo swell around her, felt as the Force stretched out and showed her the happenings.

She could feel the Gungans marching in the plains, and the child Queen's grim determination as Amidala made her way through the palace with her handful of guards. Adame could feel the child she had only heard of from Mace. This slave that her father had claimed was the Chosen One.

And it felt right. Now, in prefect communion with Qui Gon, Adame understood his beliefs: felt as strongly as he did in the rightness of it. She felt the Jedi Master that was her father react to this, and a deep swell of emotion overcame: an all encompassing sort of love for her that had been denied her because of the Jedi rules and codes.

Adame felt tears begin to sting her eyes. Even though, Adame had known Qui Gon was her father, and even though they had often been together, neither Jinn had ever truly acknowledged the kinship- at least not verbally. There was tenderness between them but it was muted, and hidden like something wrong. It had been denied them both for so long and now, finally, it seemed that the Force had granted them this small reverie to feel whatever they wished for one another.

Using the Force, Adame strained to touch her father: to return the gentleness she felt coming from him like a wave. But just as she felt him react the snap of the energy wall coming down rang in her ears and her father was up and at arms again. Her body tensed suddenly, realizing what was happening and Adame opened her mouth to warn him.

Then, white-hot pain surged through her body, filling her senses with bright light that clouded out every other thing. She was only vaguely aware of Obi Wan screaming, and again realized that it was not Obi Wan but Mace crying out to her as she fell backwards, and plunged into darkness.

She awoke later in the medical quarters of the Temple, weak and frail; with a lightsaber wound to the gut from a battle she had not fought, and Qui Gon had not won.

Adame shuttered and stopped walking. She was crying now, and instead of moving forward, she collapsed against building's side, pressing her cheek against the rough-hewn stone. All around the Force surged and pulsed as if she were in the middle of some great river, but she dared not reach out and seek its comfort. The Force was cruel, as cruel as any of her people's gods and warring Angels. It took and ravaged and gave no mind to the frailty of its followers. She shut her eyes, closing her mind to the Force and its hollow promises. In the next beat, she longed for Dooku.

"There's a story about women like you." The voice from the darkness was fair and paced, seasoned like a King's or a General's with just as much hard wisdom as either one would possess to make the voice sad. "The holy men say it's tears from wounded women that gave us the River of Light." The voice grew stronger now as he neared her. Soft, arms wrapped around Adame's waist and pulled her to him. "And in the old days, people of my caste would beg those of yours for one teardrop. They knew an Elite's sorrow could cure any disease."

Adame smiled at the foolishness and folded her hands over the man's arms. She turned, nuzzling his neck with her lips and nipping at him playfully. "In those days, you would have been killed for approaching me."

"And our child would have been drowned in the River we hold so dear." Zane told her, he laughed slightly at the foolishness of the past. "But we have changed that. Little by little, we are making it better." There was a small pause, as Zane seemed to debate on what to say next. "I saw him today in the marketplace, leading the Jedi to the Palace. Does he know? Anything about me, about us?"

Adame laughed, teasingly. "So certain he's yours?"

"Of course, no one could possibly love him as much as I do so he's mine. No matter what blood might say, he is my son- born and strengthened by the love I have for you."

"You're such a dreamer, Zane."

"One needs to dream. It's the only way to change the world."

Adame turned now, facing him and regarding the boy before her. Even though they were of a similar age, and had grown up knowing each other after a fashion, Adame would always consider him a boy. There was youthfulness in his features, a freshness and innocence that belied his harsh life and reality. Dark skin, the color of clay, glistened gently from under the bone white linens Zane favored. He had been born into a higher caste, to a family of Judges who were sworn to the Boru family. In Parcaen society, everyone was sworn to one of the five Elite families, with them sworn into the service of the King. This meant nothing really except that the taxes paid were given to the Elite who used the funds as they saw fit.

But there had been certain factors that _had_ meant something. Such as the rules of separation that stated an Elite's daughter could not intermingle with sons of the lower classes. This had of course been the problem faced by Zane and Adame when they had first met on wind-swept coasts of Parcae's water world Nereid. Zane had been studying the tribal law of Nereid's indigenous peoples and Adame had accompanied her Master, Qui Gon and Obi Wan on a type of vacation. Adame was nine and Zane was twelve and they had spent every free moment together they could. It had been a rushed affair, true love ordained by the stars themselves, or so the kids believed. They had shared their first kiss among the coral beaches and springs on Nereid's southern shores.

Then, Qui Gon discovered it and, Jedi training notwithstanding, his Elite blood seemed to take over and he summarily forbade the children access to each other. Adame was sent away, and Zane was chastised. He would later claim it was his first encounter with the cruelty of the caste system, and a catalyst that made him want to change it. He adopted the clothing and ways of the lowest caste, the Untouchables, and became an orator. He united some anti-monarchical groups, with work unions and helots of the lower classes. They joined with independence movements on various scattered through the Empire's vast reach and together all these factions became a network of change. Thus the Mal-Batz was formed.

In the beginning the Mal-Batz had been something powerful and unique in its approach, but the Crown, which had been in power for four thousand years, was not about to allow them room. They sent the armies where they could, and when more delicate work was needed, the Jedi were sent. It was easy in the old days to bring in the Jedi and call the Mal-Batz terrorists and usurpers. A few years before Naboo, Qui Gon Jinn had headed a mission with Obi Wan against them, and surely this grand and true Jedi would not ascribe himself to anything insincere.

Adame shuttered. It unnerved her that her father, famous for his compassion, could be so cold-hearted to his own people but she could not deny what she knew. He and Obi Wan had tried to destroy the Mal-Batz, Dooku had told her as much. It meant he had tried to kill Zane because Qui Gon sought to protect the status quo. It made her sick to think this.

But it wasn't her father's fault, she reasoned. It was the Jedi's and the sooner their hypocrisy was revealed the sooner they could heal it.

And then maybe, she could return.

She became aware of Zane's brown eyes staring at her. Brown eyes were a rarity on Parcae and considered a sign of beauty. She had been to many systems were these were common traits, and where Zane would have looked as non-descript and unimportant as the faceless others she had encountered. But here, Zane was lovely, and kind and his nearness to her could almost take away the pain she lived in.

She was going to regret hurting him. "The Jedi will be an issue." She told him, pulling away and putting distance between them. "Count Dooku and I were not ready for the Council to bring in Obi Wan. It's of no matter though." She turned and nodded. "We'll deal with the Jedi one at a time. It's easier to discredit them that way."

Zane gave her a calm, measuring look that made her shift in her place. "I got a better idea." He told her as he pulled out a small metal cylinder that he held in one hand. "Let's force their hand."

"What's that?" Adame whispered. The Force had begun to surge around her, screaming a warning. Instinctively, her hand fell to her side. If he pressed the button Adame didn't see it. There was a loud rumble in the distance, somewhere in the midst of the celebration. She was thrown back from the sheer size of the Force disturbance, and Adame became aware of pain and horror moments after they registered in her senses. She looked up to the city in the distance and saw thick plumes of black smoke waft through the buildings, towards the heavens. She turned and stared at Zane in disbelief. "What have you done?" She demanded, pulling her lightsaber. "You're supposed to help Parcae!"

"I'm am helping them!" Zane countered savagely. "I'm giving them hope!"

Adame backed away slowly, her first instincts screaming to render aid to those who would be caught in the disaster. "They'll label you a terrorist." She warned.

"That's all I ever was to your class." He told her, as he turned to disappear into the shadows. "And you will be forever an Elite. Let us then live up to our titles. Do your duty and leave me to mine."


	6. Salus populi suprema lex

**Chapter Five: ****Salus populi suprema lex**

The room was majestic but simple. A large bed was the centerpiece, with blue and silver linens adorning it and the thick blanket emblazoned with the Jinn family crest. The furniture in the room was made of a thick dark wood, expensive and fine looking when illuminated through the thin paper curtains that covered the rooms large, sweeping windows. Various baubles decorated the room, images meant to fill empty spaces rather then accurately symbolizing the owner's personality. There was a crystal statue in one corner that seemed to capture the light and cast it on a shelf of worn tomes of Parcaen literature. In another corner, a white tree with sliver leaves obscured a small nightstand.

Obi Wan Kenobi drew a breath and held it as he crept closer to the nightstand, reaching out and pushing away the branches to see the objects it hid, even though he knew what it possessed.

There was a face that floated frozen in time staring up at him. It was a man with something gracing his lips that could be considered a smile, and a definite twinkle to his blue-green eyes that seemed to promise mirth. He wore simple clothes, robes of a simple design and the material was of a finer quality with the Jinn crest hanging in gold around his neck. His long shoulder-length hair was braided into one thick plait, rather then worn loose as it was normally worn and at the tip of the braid was a teal cloth to match his attire.

The man looked proper and fitting in such finery that Obi Wan could almost believe that this was his natural state rather then a custom forced on him every few years.

Gasping slightly from the old pain, Obi Wan laughed bitterly as he brushed his fingers over the vid's frame and reaching the button to activate it. In a moment, the still frame came to life, invoking memory as the man became animated.

_Even from this distance, Obi Wan could still hear the music from the celebrations as clearly as he heard Gai Vinn's laughter beside him. They were in Megiddo's commons, and his Master was being forced as he put it to pose for vids and answer questions from reporters in an impromptu news conference. Most of Qui Gon's siblings seemed utterly entertained by the spectacle of their brother in something beside his familiar brown Jedi robes: his eldest sister Senator Vivanna stood with a forced smile as she directed the publicity crew to capture the best lighting and right angles. His only surviving brother, Adam stood a few paces away from Qui Gon speaking soothingly to his brother that this torment would be over soon. Ceren and Enaya, the two younger sisters, reclined a few paces away from Gai Vinn and Obi Wan, speaking rapidly to Gai Vinn in their native Parcaen, referring to Qui Gon as, the best Obi Wan could tell, a plumed bird. _

_"I'm quite certain this is a form of torture outlawed by the Republic," Qui Gon was saying to Adam. His voice was light and shaking from laughter, and Adam's voice was also thick with mirth. _

_"Quit whining, brother." Adam said, glancing at the reporters and smiling as they caught a shot of him. _

_It was no secret the Jinn family were camera shy, but when the elusive patriarch of the family came for a visit, Megiddo turned out in full force; spilling open their glittering palace, renown stables and glittering orchards and courtyards for all to see and partake of. It was a private family moment made into a public celebration for the mere reason Qui Gon was home and he was happy. _

_Obi Wan smiled. It was as if his Master's emotions had taken on earthly form and nourished his surroundings. Despite Qui Gon's rebukes and annoyed glances, the Jedi Master was deeply glad to be in such familiar settings. Put simply, the Jedi Master was home and he was basking in it. _

_And in the warm of the moment, amid the jokes, and photography; Obi Wan felt at home too._

_"Master Jedi," Qui Gon turned to the female reporter and nodded. Her voice was low and timid compared to the others who were shouting his name or questions or both- eager to hear what he, a Jedi royal, felt on matters. The woman, struck by being acknowledged, stumbled over her words for a moment and then found her strength. "You recently supported the succession of the wealthy L'Nore system from the Kingdom; a succession that cost the Kingdom 15 percent of its revenue. What do you say to those who believed the L'Nore's calls for sovereignty merely the demands of a vocal minority? What do you say to those who claim your loyalties to Parcae are trampled as you become a Republican lackey?"_

_"King Ramir trusted me to find the most beneficial outcome for all parties, and I have done so." Qui Gon said, although Obi Wan noticed the smallest trace of weariness in his Master's voice as if this had been something Qui Gon had dealt with in one form or another for some time. "I did what I thought was best: first as Jedi, yes but also as an Elite. I love Parcae, and am proud to claim it as my home."_

_"What of the edicts placed by the Jedi that their Knights are to have no home?"_

_"What the Council wishes is that the Knights have no attachment that will draw them away from the central purpose: to maintain peace and order. I feel these goals are the same as the Parcaen Kingdom's." He took a beat, then leveled his eyes on the woman. "Or has Parcae lost her mercy as some would claim?"_

_The Reporter was stunned silent. Obi Wan noticed his Master had a smug look on his face that stirred something in Obi Wan uneasily. Like with most things, Qui Gon seemed to be treading a very thin line between objectivity and his loyalty to the Jedi mandates. More importantly, Obi Wan sensed that Qui Gon was actually enjoying this display._

Obi Wan's attention snapped away from his daydream, angered: mostly at himself. He did not like where his mind was going nor did he care much for the conclusions it was drawing from the memory. He exhaled as he replaced the photograph and waited for his quiet observer to make a comment. He didn't have to wait long.

"You give the dead too much sway." Briand's voice was low, and concerned. "Qui Gon was a great man, but I think you may be trying to fight his battles even now."

"I don't know what you are implying."

"You profess that you are open-minded but I sense your feelings on this subject." She paused just long enough to close the distance between them. "You will give the Mal-Batz no room to negotiate."

"They're all liars, murderers and thieves. It is not Parcae's policy to negotiate with such terrorists and I will not force a King who is in the right to forfeit justice because it would service the Republic better."

"Spoken like a true Parcean." Briand observed. "I wonder if it is Obi Wan who speaks, or Qui Gon."

"I don't like what you're implying, Creed."

"Deny it once more." Briand countered. "See if it sticks this time."

"What do you want from me?" He asked, turning to face her. "All around me I'm faced with memories of my Master, of his contributions. How can you ask me not to honor them?"

"All I am asking is for you to be a Jedi. That is the best way to honor Qui Gon." The female's darkened for a moment, and pained though she was, she stepped closer to him. "The pain you feel is yours alone, Obi Wan and try as I might, I cannot touch it. I can only offer…"

"You're wrong." Obi Wan said finally. He rose slowly to his full height to regard her. "Adame feels my pain. She knows."

Whatever counter Briand was meaning to try was cut short by the sharp disturbance in the Force. Both Obi Wan and Briand tensed as their hands fell to their respective sabers, drawing attention to the purpled sky turned gray with smoke a few moments later. There was a loud explosion that made the windows shake in their sills, and the furniture jump in place. A short, shrill alarm followed; the ancient system used by the Parcaens when Galatia was still vulnerable to severe winter storms, now being used to alert medics, healers and police.

Within a few moments, the two Jedi were in the heart of the chaos. Obi Wan heard a flutter of languages crying out to various deities and outsiders for help. Many Parcaens who had struggled free of the wreckage had begun to shift through the debris, following voices to find other survivors. Bandstands, craft and food vendors were overturn and forgotten, the power grid had been partially destroyed, creating the eerie effect of festive lights sparking to illuminate broken buildings and overturned patios.

Obi Wan felt Briand shift nervously. She spoke quickly, but hushed to him. "The fear is too thick, I can't sense my Padawan. Anything?"

So far, Obi Wan had been pushing the tremor of fear away from his mind but now found the need to confront it. He sighed, and shook his head. "No, which means they're not dead. We would have felt that."

"You're right." She whispered, then again with more assurance. "You're right."

"Do we know what's happened?"

"The Mal-Batz is what's happened!"

Obi Wan turned to see Gai Vinn storm towards them. His eyes were blackened, and clothes bloodied from rescue attempts. He grunted at them, motioning for them to follow. "The bomb was placed in the old Cathedral, one of the more populated areas during the celebration. A second one went off a few moments afterwards, claiming the lives of some security and aide personnel. Currently, Adame is searching the area attempting to find other bombs but we think they're done." Gai Vinn inhaled in a futile attempt to control his temper. "There are a lot of people still missing…Amri included. Adame could use your help. She'll need all the backing she can get once Elias passes judgment on this. Mal-Batz will hang for this treason."

"We did not commit this act."

The voice was low and simple, devoid of any polishing or prose. To any ear, it would sound like the simple voice of a farmer and indeed the woman's robes were those of Eire nomad- the simplest and most elusive race of the Parcae's main system. Dark and Jedi-like in her simplicity, the woman wore her hair long, trailing to some uncertain length down her back and interwoven with leather as a form of adornment. She donned a heavy broad-ax strapped to her back that on Eire would have denoted her rank as ruler of the tribes but in the clean and civilized city of Galatia merely made her appear barbaric.

"We're a political organization." She continued, her brogue worn and similar to the Jinn family's. "Not a terrorist group."

"Tell that to those who have lost their lives today." Gai Vinn countered.

She regarded him in the eye, which made the Senator squirm. "We did not do this act, I swear it on my honor!"

"Your honor is worth less then dirt!" He shouted.

"While yours is brought with baubles and trinkets, Senator!"

"Enough!" Briand shouted. "Now we all having missing here, I say we put aside our anger till this is settled. There'll be room enough for talk later."

"Agreed." The woman murmured as she turned to face the Senator. "Come, let's us go and help those who still can be saved."

Obi Wan watched the two retreat back into the chaos with a diminishing spirit. He sighed nervously and followed suit.

"Well." Briand whispered to him. "So much for happy endings."


End file.
